The elf sat with brows furrowed, his expression unreadable as he studied the report in front of him. The past few weeks were spent with target observation and intricate undercover work, the fruition of which were the names of likely Venatori agents. Investigations like this used to mean for the most part posing as a servant, a perfect disguise for an elf needing to become invisible in the eyes of humans lording their status over every living creature. He hated it. He was no slave nor servant anymore, but it was an excellent cover, nonetheless. Or so it used to be. With this new post his focus shifted to the coordination of more elaborate operations. On the list of potentially compromised scholars he found the one he was hoping to see the most: Nicon Sulara.
Although he's been actively trying to distance himself from his fool of a cousin Havian - a proud member of this Old God Cult-, the contacts both Sulara men kept, the clandestine meetings Nicon attended in the dusk along the shadier streets of Val Royeaux all pointed to his involvement. The elven spy had been suspecting him for a while now and his gut rarely led him astray. Naturally, good members of the Qun do not have hunches, they do not act on gut instinct but follow evidence and make their decisions accordingly. He couldn't fault himself much for listening to his intuition in this case, however, as all the evidence did point where his original impulse has been telling him to look all along.
Since the recent defeat of the ancient magister Corypheus at the hands of the Inquisition the league of Tevinter supremacists largely dispersed and aimed to cover up their former involvement by all means necessary. There were those, however, who remained active even after the fall of their leader, donning the armour of secrecy. Their numbers may have dwindled but loyal members still sought to collect relics and slaves to work on their magical experiments and bring back Tevinter's now withered glory.
Coincidentally, this was also the beginning of strange patterns emerging amongst some of the elven servants, seemingly all around Thedas. Fewer complaints were reported and all informants noted the increased distrust towards new introductions to the domestic attendants of noble households. A curious issue to be addressed in the future...
Gatt had been investigating possible routes of covert Venatori operations in Orlais when the discrepancies in the logs of Val Royeaux harbour began to shape a pattern different from those created by the irregular visits of petty smugglers. Small shipments of seemingly miscellaneous origin were disappearing in an organised manner and, although no high standing citizen would have noticed, so were people. Mostly elves, as well as a few humans down on their luck for too long to matter. Ben-Hassrath agents had no trouble identifying the potential danger in the vanishing cargo which after thorough investigation always led them to the same place, the University of Orlais. The abductions, on the other hand, proved to be more opportunistic. In fact, the only reason Gatt was able to even entertain the idea of killing two birds with one stone, was the result of a timely tip from an old friend, formerly of Seheron. Putting an end to the Venatori activity in the area was demanded by the Qun but saving the lives of those sorry bastards was a demand of his own.
The University has always been a cultural melting pot and a most renowned place of education throughout Thedas. The scholars of the institution, in addition to studying matters of theology, mathematics and the natural world, would often venture far and beyond to acquire relics of old; in the hopes that they may enhance their knowledge of the past and future. That the cultists would want to plant some of their informants into the midst of influential academics was to be expected and it seemed it was not only intelligence they were dealing in. The rumours of a fruitful new excavation in Northern Orlais, the discovery of ancient ruins covered in runes ambiguously identified as old Tevene have gotten the bright minds of the college all alight. While under usual circumstances the presence of scholars from Tevinter was no more curious than gathering birds at a pond but their sudden relative abundance did cause the Ben-Hassrath some concern.
Whatever was afoot it was certainly intriguing. So much so that in his excitement the young altus, Nicon, did not manage to conceal his intentions as well as he thought. Eager to prove he is capable of more than his older cousin - the man has become infamous amongst the Vints for his blunder that got a grand shipment of slaves lost to the cult, after all -; he seems to have already planted the seeds of mistrust amongst some of his fellow countrymen. After reports of sporadic disputes conducted in low voices and a particularly heated argument that ended with a thundering slap Nicon received from a feisty scholarly guest, a mage of Vyrantium, many of them gave the young man a wide berth.
Having memorised every single detail his green eyes lifted from the copy in his hand and with a deep sigh Gatt lit the papers using the small flickering flame of the candle in front of him. Watching secret words burn away in a container had always been an oddly calming experience, this ritual of sorts helped him collect his thoughts before more risky operations. His features calm the elf stood and approached the selection of weapons laid in meticulous order atop the modest drawer of the cramped room. Although the Ben-Hassrath preferred other methods to achieve their goals than bloodshed, they were not the Antaam after all, considering the current situation he very much doubted that his blades would go thirsty for long. Securing his daggers as well as some smaller blades in well hidden places the tall elf took one last glimpse at his quarters before leaving the ramshackle building under the cover of the velvet darkness of the night.
The winding streets near the docks were not frequented by any well meaning sort at such early hours, only the drunk, the desperate and the resolute could be encountered here. The gangly man covered in dark robes seemed both resolved and desperate, his demeanour positively shifty as he snuck through dark corners with his gaze practically bouncing from one side of the alley to the other. Gatt had no trouble following him alternating between rooftops and the ground covered in the shade of various buildings with feline grace. He soon also noticed that he was not the only pursuer of this potential agent. As he kept a good distance from his target, waiting for his next move atop a rather shabby looking home the spys eyes fell on a female figure watching Nicon from across the corner of a small lane leading directly to the harbour. He could not quite make out who this woman was, other than she was likely human, but her stance and movements as she followed seemed somewhat familiar. Vashedan! Whoever this was they could shatter his entire strategy and spook the Venatori. They could lose the intel, the relics and the people. This was no time for patience, he told himself, as he leapt into the murky obscurity of the below.